Now And Forever
by SerenitySparrow
Summary: Top Gear story. Finally getting over the pain of his wife leaving him, Richard Hammond's life begins to take a more exciting turn. He learns the Stig is in love with him and meets a woman who changes it all for him. What else is life waiting to deliver him?
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Please excuse whatever portions may be OOC or unrealistic. It's only a fictional story, after all.

Disclaimer: I am not associated with the BBC or anyone at Top Gear, including Richard Hammond, Jeremy Clarkson, James May, or the Stig. This story is completely fictional and I gain no monetary value from it.

* * *

Jeremy Clarkson rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he watched Richard Hammond working tirelessly underneath his favorite car, only his legs available for viewing as the rest of his body was hidden beneath the engine. He had just heard the most interesting news regarding a certain faceless masked driver and Hammond and he very well couldn't wait to share the news with Hammond.

Finally, after about fifteen more minutes of fiddling beneath the car, Richard rolled out from under the car and stood to his feet. He greeted Jeremy with a smile as he walked over to his tool chest and grabbed the dishrag he'd tossed aside earlier to wipe the excess oil from his hands.

"What are you doing here?" Richard inquired of Jeremy, who didn't make a habit of stopping by his coworkers' houses.

"Can't an old work colleague visit another colleague without having an agenda?"

Jeremy replied innocently.

"'Old' being the operative word." Richard finished with the rag, tossed it back onto the tool chest, and braced his hands on his hips. "What 'is' your agenda, Jeremy?"

"Okay." Jeremy rubbed his palms together in delight. "I have just heard the greatest, most fantastic news."

Richard waited patiently, but Jeremy didn't elaborate. "Well? What is this 'great news?' And why should I care?"

Jeremy smirked. "I have heard from an extremely reliable source that..."

Richard's eyes widened impatiently. "That?"

"The Stig is in love with you."

Richard blinked silently at Jeremy's announcement.

"Well?" Jeremy prompted. "What have you got to say to that?"

Richard shook his head. "I don't have time for this absurdity." He pushed past Jeremy to head into his house.

"I'm not lying!" Jeremy called after him.

"I'll see you at work tomorrow," Richard yelled back before a resounding slamming of a door echoed through the garage.

* * *

Richard was in a rather testy mood the next day when he walked into the BBC offices, a mug of coffee in one hand and a film schedule in the other. He was striding purposely down the hall with his head facing the floor because he didn't feel up to talking to anyone at that present point in time. He'd had one of those odd dreams that had involved a horsewhip, a chandelier, and the Stig, thanks to Jeremy's visit the night before.

Richard reached his desk at last and set his items down on the flat wood surface before he fell into his black rolling chair. He sighed as he leaned back and sat still for several long seconds, staring blankly ahead. When he leaned forward once more, one of the younger secretaries or assistants stopped next to his desk to drop off a note from the director.

"Thank you," Richard said absently as he grappled for the note, barely taking notice when the young woman walked away.

Richard groaned when the note he read had the director requesting his presence, along with his co-presenters Jeremy and James May. But he stood to his feet, picked up his mug of caramel-colored coffee drenched in sugar and creamer, and strolled to the other side of the building.

Richard was the last to reach the conference room and everybody stared at him as he made his way to the empty chair between Jeremy and James. He grumbled something to Jeremy beneath his breath that Jeremy didn't catch and then the meeting began.

The meeting lasted all of ten minutes before everyone was dismissed. Richard was the first to shoot to his feet and was out of the room before anyone could question him.

James glanced over at Jeremy. "What was that about?"

Jeremy shrugged. "You got me."

"Did you tell him about the Stig?"

"In part."

"In part?"

"After I told him the Stig's in love with him, he simply walked into his house and shut the door."

"So you didn't tell him that we have two Stigs?"

Jeremy shook his head. "He didn't give me a chance."

"When we're not filming, he always seems to be in a bit of a mood, I've noticed."

"Yes. He's been that way since Mindy left him."

"Been about a year, hasn't it?"

"It has been exactly a year today, I believe."

"Well, that explains his crabby mood then."

* * *

It was nearing the end of the work day and Richard's mood hadn't improved one iota. He'd snapped at everyone who'd approached him and to make matters worse, he'd stubbed his right foot on the bottom of his desk when he'd rolled forward to get started on his paperwork. He couldn't bloody wait for this damned blasted day to be over with!

"Excuse me, Mr. Hammond..."

Richard slammed his hand down against his desktop in frustration. "Damn it! Can no one sense that I don't want to be bothered today?!"

The young woman -the same young woman who had dropped by earlier in the day- flushed brightly. "I'm sorry," she apologized in a soft voice. She didn't say more as she dropped off his paycheck and quickly strolled away.

Richard sighed, immediately feeling terrible. He picked up the check and decided to go ahead and head home. He didn't want to go snapping at any more people undeserving of his wrath and he certainly didn't want to be asked to do any menial tasks for anyone else.

Miraculously, Richard managed to leave work without anyone asking to see him or trying to engage him in conversation. Even the parking lot was empty of employees as he climbed into his Mustang. Surprisingly, he hit no traffic on the way home and he found his sour mood was slowly dissipating.

When he reached his four-bedroom farmhouse, about ninety percent of the dark clouds that had darkened his mind were gone and he was whistling almost merrily as he strode into his house. He rifled through his mail that rested on the inside table near the front door, decided there wasn't anything of immediate importance, and moved off into the kitchen. He pulled open the fridge door and retrieved an ice cold bottle of lager. He was just about to twist the cap off when he decided he'd much rather go out to his favorite pub instead of sitting at home dwelling on the past.

Richard set the lager back into the fridge, grabbed his jacket off the hook on the way back to the garage, and proceeded to take leave.

As his favorite pub was just around the corner, it took Richard only five minutes to reach it. He found a parking spot near the front and was inside the pub sitting at a back table with a pint of his favorite beer within three minutes.

As Richard settled back into the booth, his eyes scanned the semi-crowded room and instantly fell on the pretty young woman he'd lashed out at at work. She was surrounded by a few other people that he recognized from the BBC offices and she looked slightly bored and out of place.

Richard swallowed the small remainder of liquid in his frosty mug and stood to his feet. The least he could do for the woman was apologize to her and try to get her out of what looked to be a dull situation.

Thankfully, the woman was alone when he reached out and tapped her on the shoulder.

To say that Katherine Oliphant was surprised to see one of Top Gear's three presenters standing in front of her, one that she actually had a crush on, would be an understatement. Her pulse rate accelerated and she gulped back a tidal wave of anxiety, nervous as the last time she had seen him, she'd been yelled at.

"Hi," Richard greeted her in that adorably accented voice of his, lifting his hand in an almost self-conscious salute.

"Hi," Kat replied, her right hand gripping her glass of rum and coke tightly. He didn't come over here just to yell at her again, did he? No. Richard was a nice man; he wouldn't do that to anyone.

"Um..." Richard scratched the back of his neck nervously. "I want to apologize for the way I lashed out at you today at work. I just...it's been a hard day for me. Emotionally."

Kat waved off his apology nonchalantly. "It's okay. Everyone has those days sometimes." She noticed that he was absent a drink and offered to buy him another one.

"Let me buy you one," Richard suggested after thanking her for her offer. "To make up for being such a cock."

Kat opened her mouth to politely decline, but Richard interrupted her before she could speak.

"I won't take no for an answer," he insisted as he sat down on the stool next to Kat and ordered her another drink of whatever she was drinking and then ordered himself another pint as well.

Richard turned back to Kat. "I know you've probably told me before, but I can't recall..."

"Kat," she replied with a quirked smile. She hadn't actually ever told Richard her name because she hadn't spent enough time with him to do so.

"Kat," Richard repeated, rolling her name around on his tongue experimentally.

Kat's palms grew unexpectedly sweaty when Richard murmured her name and she discretely wiped them on the soft black silk of her skirt. Richard was saying something, she could see his lips moving, but she was too focused on his broad masculine shoulders to really hear him.

Kat mentally shook her head. "I'm sorry; I didn't hear what you said."

Richard chuckled as the bartender set their drinks down in front of them. He had trouble believing that he hadn't taken much notice of the woman before him, but he'd been too wrapped up in his own emotions and snarled thoughts to notice much of anything in the past year. He could probably blame all that on Mindy.

"I was just asking how you wound up in England and at the BBC," Richard muttered. "You're from the States, right?"

Kat nodded as she sipped from her beverage.

"What made you come out here?"

Kat shrugged. "It's not something I can really explain. I wanted a new change of scenery, a new life."

"You running from something?"

"Yes and no. But the BBC was where I headed first to look for a job because...well, I love your show. I didn't think I'd get hired, but they called me back only a couple of days after my interview."

"They're very picky," Richard commented. "You must have really nailed your interview or impressed them somehow."

Kat blushed and brought her glass back up to her lips. Richard found the pink tinting in her pale cheeks endearing and enjoyed the sparkle in her blue-gray eyes.

"Would you like to sit at a table instead of the bar?" Richard asked, pointing with the hand that held his mug to the table in the back corner that he had vacated.

"Okay."

Kat followed Richard to the round table situated below a dimly flickering lightbulb. She was taken a bit aback when Richard pulled one of the wooden chairs out for her. She wasn't accustomed to men being so chivalrous. She thanked him and slid into the chair; across from her, Richard did the same.

"How long, exactly, have you been working at the BBC?" Richard inquired as he leaned forward to rest his arms on the tabletop.

"Um..." Kat's eyes drifted up to the ceiling in thought. "Almost four years now."

"Four years? Wow! I can't believe I haven't gotten to know you better, then."

"Well, we had one brief back-and-forth about two weeks after I started, but I don't remember what it was about."

Well, that wasn't quite true. She'd been thrilled to find herself face-to-face with Richard Hammond and become even more thrilled when he'd actually started talking to _her. _They'd been waiting for the elevator together and had somehow gotten onto a conversation about American products. That day, her crush on Richard had grown immensely.

"Huh; I'm sorry, but I don't remember that," Richard apologized.

"I wouldn't expect you to. It was years ago and me having a conversation with you is far more memorable than you having a conversation with me."

"That can't be right." Richard rubbed his bottom lip thoughtfully as he struggled to recall having met Kat years before.

"You don't need to worry about it, Mr. Hammond. It was years ago."

"We're not at the office, Kat. You can call me Richard. Or Rich, if you prefer."

"Okay. Richard."

Richard rather liked hearing Kat use his first name and he couldn't determine why.

"You know, another reason I opted to work at the BBC is because my mother and my sister love your show and I was hoping to one day get them out here to watch it live."

Richard nodded in response, but his eyes were now drawn to her fully plump, scarlet red lips. He hadn't been out with too many girls in his life -there'd only been about five girls he'd dated for any period of time longer than a day before he'd married Mindy- but none of them had had the same lushness to their lips as Kat's did. He found himself wanting to lean across the table and test the ripe softness of her lips by pressing his own to them. It had been over a year -Blimey! Almost two years now!- since he'd seen any action.

"Richard?" Kat's soft voice drew Richard back to the moment and he shook his head to clear it.

"I'm sorry," he said, a wee bit embarrassed. "My mind may have wandered a bit."

"It 'may' have?" Kat sounded amused, as well she should. "Don't worry; it happens to me a lot, especially at work. Just please do me a favor and don't tell my boss."

Richard chuckled. "I won't."

They stayed at the pub chatting well into the wee hours of the morning, much to their surprise. Richard had decided to pay for both their drinks of the evening, with Kat arguing the entire way. In the end, Richard had had to distract her while he slipped his credit card to the bartender.

They exited the pub together and Richard gentlemanly walked Kat to her car, his eyes lighting up in appreciation.

"You have a Mustang!" he cheered as he admired her powder blue model.

"I do."

"Oh, it's much better than mine. And in much better condition." He turned to her. "I'll buy it from you."

Kat laughed and shook her head. "No way. I've grown too attached and put in too much sweat and blood to sell it to anyone, even you."

Richard laughed. "Is it a manual or an automatic?"

"Automatic; I'm not very good at driving a stick."

"Really?"

"Yes. I know it's hard to believe, what with most cars in America being automatic..."

Richard laughed again. Once he was calmed down, he grew solemnly silent. For about one minute.

"Thank you," he muttered in a soft, quiet voice.

"For what?"

"For lifting my black mood. I haven't been able to relax and just enjoy myself in...quite a long time."

Kat smiled and Richard's pulse dropped a little southerly of his belt. It had been a long time indeed.

"Oh; well, any time you need an emotional lift, you kind of know where to find me."

Richard smiled gratefully and this time Kat's pulse began to race. "I'll keep that in mind."

Richard stepped off to the side as Kat climbed into her car and drove away. When he walked to his own car, he barely acknowledged the fact that he was whistling a merry tune. If one listened closely, one would call the tune 'I'm Walking On Sunshine.'


	2. Chapter 2

AN: I had originally intended for Richard's children to be a part of the story as well, but as I kept writing, I realized I hadn't brought them up once and so decided, for the sake of the story, there are no children at present. And I apologize ahead for anything in any chapters that may seem OOC or unrealistic.

* * *

"I do hope you're in a better mood today," Jeremy muttered to Richard the next day when Richard came into work. An hour late, no less.

"I am!" Richard replied cheerily as he walked into the break room to pour himself a mug of coffee.

Jeremy quirked his left eyebrow into the air. "Really? And what has put that ginormous smile on your face? Have you finally found a girl to shag your brains out?"

Richard rolled his eyes as he dumped a spoonful of sugar into his coffee and stirred. "Is sex all that matters? All that can put a smile on a man's face?"

"No, but it is one of the best."

"No arguing with that point, mate."

"Anyway, I was trying to tell you something the other day," Jeremy began as the two men walked out of the break room.

"Was it something to do with the Stig? I think I remember the Stig coming up."

Jeremy nodded as they strolled into an empty conference room, occupied only by James. "Yes." Jeremy exchanged a quick look with James, who nodded at him to continue. "The Stig has confessed, to both James and I, to being in love with you."

Richard froze with his coffee mug halfway to his lips. "Say what now?"

James spoke up. "Not to worry, Hammond. You have a fifty/fifty chance of the female Stig being the one who loves you."

Richard set his coffee mug down on the glass conference table and leaned back on his heels. "The _female_ Stig? What, we have more than one Stig?"

"As it turns out, yes," Jeremy replied. "But I'm rather hoping it's the man who loves you, Richard."

"Why?" Richard asked, his right brow raised suspiciously in the air.

"Because I am issuing a challenge to you right here, right now. Do you have the plums to accept and make an oral agreement here and now?"

"That depends on what the preposed challenge is."

"I'll tell you once you've bound yourself to it."

Richard glanced from Jeremy to James and back. "Well, I must say I _am_ very curious, so...okay. You've got a deal."

"Remember now, this is an oral agreement and it's binding."

"That's right," James added. "So you can't back out of it no matter what unexpected happenstance may pop up."

"Okay. I agree. So what's the challenge?"

"In one month's time, you will have a race with the Stig. If the Stig wins, you have to go on a date with him."

"Or her," James added, staring pointedly at Richard.

"Complete with a kiss at the end of the date," Jeremy continued after an irritated glance tossed James's way. "Which we must, of course, witness."

"And if I win?"

"Then you _won't_ have to date the Stig. In fact, if the Stig that wants you _does_ turn out to be a woman -and you won't know until the race is over- then I say it would only be fair that you would never be allowed to date the woman at all."

"Ever?" Richard asked.

"Ever."

"Well, I can't promise anything like **that**! What if she's an attractive woman?"

"That's just a risk you'll have to take." Jeremy glanced at James briefly. "So, are you going to do it?"

Richard took a few minutes to think it over. "Well, seeing as we already sealed the agreement, so to speak, I guess I'm left with no choice but to heartily agree. Yes! I shall do it!"

* * *

Kat couldn't help humming to herself as she typed away on her keyboard. If she had the ability to do so, she'd probably be whistling. Her heart felt light today and she knew the reason was because of the time she'd spent with Richard the night before. Even if they never spoke more than two words to each other ever again, she would always cherish that brief time together. Richard was indeed fun to be around.

"Kat!"

Kat jumped at the sudden calling of her name and looked up to see her desk mate, Sheila Marxson, staring at her.

"What?" Kat asked.

"What's going on? You've had that smile on your face since you came in this morning." Sheila leaned forward with a knowing grin. "Did you meet a man?"

Kat blushed and had to struggle to keep from glancing around the office in the hopes of catching sight of the handsome Richard. "Well, I wouldn't say that _exactly_."

"But basically that's what it is, right?" Sheila wheeled her rolling chair over to Kat's desk and she placed her arms on the desk. "Is he cute?"

"Adorably so. Although I would never tell him that. You know how sensitive men can be about that sort of thing."

Sheila laughed. "Did you kiss him?"

"Of course not."

"When was the last time a man kissed you?"

Kat was a bit caught off-guard with the segway, but didn't comment on it. "I don't know. That's kind of a personal question, isn't it?"

"You're not a prude, are you?" Sheila teased, making Kat incredibly uncomfortable.

"No. But I don't discuss things like this at work. It's not proper or appropriate."

Sheila sighed, shaking her head. "You're absolutely no fun at all."

Kat smirked as Sheila rolled back to her desk. "Why don't we grab a drink after work? I'm not _that_ boring."

Sheila laughed and nodded. "Okay." Her eyes fell on something behind Kat. "Now, _that's_ a pretty good-looking man. I wouldn't mind experiencing what he has to offer in the sack. He definitely makes that Top Gear show worth watching."

Kat turned her head about an inch to the left to see Richard striding down the hall. He appeared to be whistling as he smacked a rolled up piece of paper against the palm of his left hand. He looked quite scrumptious in a white collared shirt complete with a black blazer and his tight ass encased snugly in tight white-washed denim jeans that clung to him like a second skin.

Just at that particular moment, Richard happened to glance to his left and his eyes locked with Kat's.

Mortified at having been caught staring, Kat quickly looked away and focused her attention back to her computer screen. She could feel her cheeks heating, but tried to ignore it as best as she could. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Richard pushing through the cluttered array of small desks that littered the room to get to hers, which was positioned by the large plate glass window. She, and apparently the Top Gear presenters, at least occasionally, worked on the fifth floor of the BBC's main production building.

"Hello," Richard greeted Kat once he'd finally reached her desk.

"Hi," Kat replied back as she removed her hands from the keyboard and her eyes from the screen to look up at Richard.

"Would you like to grab some lunch?" he asked, his eyes twinkling hopefully.

Kat glanced down at her watch. "Yeah. That'd be great."

Richard nodded politely at Sheila as he waited for Kat to grab her purse. She was eyeballing him like she wanted to rip his clothes from his body and it was making him a tad bit uneasy.

Once she had gathered her small blue bag, Kat stood to her feet and followed Richard to the elevators.

* * *

Near the back of the room, James and Jeremy leaned against the doorframe of the Top Gear's production editor's office, watching Richard walk away.

"Who is that?" James asked, nodding to the woman Richard escorted out of the building.

"One of the assistants or secretaries, I believe," Jeremy replied as he scratched the tip of his nose with his index finger. "I've seen her around quite a bit the last few years. Has excellent tits."

* * *

Kat sat down across from Richard at a restaurant ten minutes from the BBC production studio and glanced down at the wine menu. She scanned it with her eyes before deciding on a glass of Woodbridge, one of her favorite white wines (and the name of her old neighborhood back in the States). Across from her, Richard ordered a glass of Zinfandel and then they set those menus aside.

"Would you like this section of the menu?" Richard asked as he held out the seafood menu.

Kat emphatically shook her head in the negative. "No thanks. I don't like fish of any kind."

"Ah; something else we have in common." Richard set the menu down next to his plate.

"Is there a particular reason you don't like fish?" Kat asked as she scanned the food menu, her eyes landing on a dish composed of roasted chicken with a side salad, sweet potatoes, and/or French fries. Or chips, as the Brits referred to them.

"I don't know." Richard tapped his chin thoughtfully as he closed his own menu. "I don't suppose I've ever given it too much thought." His sparkling brown eyes locked with Kat's glassy ones, which appeared much more blue beneath these particular fluorescent lights. "What about you?"

"Oh, you know, one of those silly reasons like, 'I don't want to eat anything that has ever lived beneath the water.'"

"Oh; an aquatic lover, are you?"

"Yes. I used to joke with my family that I was a seafood vegetarian."

Richard laughed.

"The closest I will come to eating seafood is fish sticks, which don't really count."

The waiter came by at that moment to take their orders. Kat and Richard were amused when they both ordered the roasted chicken. The only detail that was different was one of their choices of a side dish.

Richard drummed his fingers against the tabletop as he stared at Kat. She really was a beautiful woman and she clearly had trouble believing that about herself. She hadn't actually said that to him, but he could read it in her nervous gestures and the way she wouldn't meet his eyes for longer than a minute. Richard found her overwhelming shyness quite endearing.

"You know," Kat began, "it's just occurred to me that I've been working at the BBC for four years and I still haven't been able to go to a single taping of one of your shows."

"Really? Would you like to?"

"I'd love to, but I don't know that I want to wait in that long line to get in."

"Kat..."

Kat's eyes shot to his and she cursed herself for blushing beneath his piercing brown gaze.

"...you work at the BBC and now you're friends with me, so you won't have to wait in any long line."

"Oh. Of course I never thought of that." Kat rolled her eyes at herself.

Richard grinned and leaned forward. "Has that really never occurred to you?"

"I'm sure it has, but not recently." Kat leaned forward, eager all of a sudden. "There's something I've always been curious about. Well, actually there are several."

Richard sighed and briefly shut his eyes. "About Top Gear?"

"Yes and no." Her eyes zeroed in thoughtfully on Richard's face. "Do questions about the show bother you? Because it looks like they do."

"Sometimes. Depends on the questions, really. If someone asks me about the car accident, **that** really grates my nerves. I mean, it happened many years ago, you know."

"Well, I don't intend on pestering you with many Top Gear inquiries."

"Oh, I'm sure I could make an exception for you. I doubt very much that you could pester me anyhow."

Kat laughed, not surprised by how charming Richard was. "All I need is a little time. Every person can be pestering at some point."

"Well, I can't very well argue with that logic."

The waiter set their glasses of wine down on the table, followed by Kat's small side salad, and then walked away.

As Kat drenched her salad in fat-free Ranch dressing, Richard watched her with a very observant eye. He sipped on his red wine and smiled at the cute way she started to separate what she wanted to eat from what she didn't want to eat. The croutons, tomatoes, and olives were all pushed to the side as Kat speared a few pieces of lettuce and cheese and onions onto the prongs of her fork and brought it to her lips, pausing suddenly at the way Richard watched her.

"What?" she asked self-consciously as she lowered her fork.

"Nothing." Richard sipped calmly at his wine. "You don't like croutons?"

Kat blushed and quickly stuck her bite of salad into her mouth. Once she'd swallowed, she shook her head. "No. I don't know why though. They're just little hardened pieces of bread. And I like bread."

Richard chuckled and took another sip of wine. "Didn't you want to ask me something?"

"Oh. Yeah." Kat passed her hand through the air. "They're stupid."

"Nothing's stupid." Richard folded his arms on top of the table and gave her his full, undivided attention. "You can ask me anything. Well, mostly anything."

Kat poked her fork into her salad as she lifted her wine glass with her left hand and brought it to her lips to take a long, languorous sip. When she set it down, Richard gestured with his hands for her to go ahead.

"How many scars have you gotten throughout your time on the show?" Kat blurted out. It wasn't the question she'd been planning to ask originally, but it was the one that had sprung to mind at the last minute. The very last minute.

Richard was taken aback. He'd probably been asked that question several times throughout the years, but not often. And it was certainly not a question he'd been expecting Kat to ask him.

"Quite a few, but I can't remember all of them."

Kat nodded in response.

"Do you have any scars?" Richard asked.

"Only three; from a slicer accident."

"What kind of slicer accident?"

"One of those slicers that is used in a delicatessen. It was open about three inches or so and I forgot the blade was still moving and I stuck my hands in to grab the meat..."

Richard shuddered at the image her words created. "Ouch."

"I was in more shock than pain. Nearly passed out later, though, when I saw the amount of blood in the bag of ice I was holding."

"Those are the only scars you have?"

"That I know of. If I have any others, I either can't see them or haven't noticed them yet."

As Kat finished off what was left off of her salad, Richard briefly glanced down at his mobile phone before sliding it back into his right front pocket.

"Which hand was it?" Richard asked as the waiter took Kat's salad bowl away.

"What? Oh; it was my left." She waved her left hand through the air and Richard reached out and gently grasped it.

Something passed through Kat at Richard's unexpectedly gentle touch as he thoroughly examined her hand. The feel of his rough fingertips brushing over her skin sent little nerve electrons through Kat's body and it was all she could do not to squirm.

"I can see the discoloration here on your hand," Richard murmured as he traced the triangle outline at the top of Kat's hand just below the middle finger. "But where are the other scars?"

Kat reluctantly pulled her hand out of Richard's and pointed to the top of her middle and ring fingers.

"How did you manage to do that?"

"I believe it was one of those busy Sundays and I just wasn't paying attention. I really just wanted to get rid of the customers, you know?"

Richard nodded just as the waiter arrived with their food on a tray. Both Kat and Richard leaned back so the waiter could set their plates in front of them. He asked them if they needed anything else. Richard requested a glass of water and Kat shook her head.

After a few minutes of silent eating, Kat asked, "What's it like to drive a motorcycle?"

Richard looked up at her with a mouth full of chicken. "Hmm?"

"I mean, is it any more fun than simply riding as a passenger or is it about the same?" As she waited for Richard's reply, Kat sipped at her wine.

"Oh, driving is much better than simply riding it. I'm assuming you have ridden one before?"

Kat nodded vigorously. "Yes. I love riding on the back of one. I do hate it, though, if I'm riding without a helmet because the wind really screws up my hair."

Richard laughed. "That it does. I think you would enjoy driving a bike."

"Oh, I think I'd be too scared to try driving one."

"I'd be glad to show you. It's not too terribly difficult."

"Only because you've been driving them for years. For a novice like myself...well, I'd probably crash non-stop."

"Not with me watching after you."

"You'd have to be on the bike with me, in that case."

"I would be for the first few rides. You think I've never taught anyone to drive a bike before?"

Kat shrugged and dipped one of her fries into a glob of ketchup. "I think you'd find yourself getting quite frustrated with me really fast."

"You're that annoying, are you?"

Kat picked up a fry and threw it at Richard's head. Richard laughed, picked up the fry, and tossed it into his mouth.


End file.
